


Vegetable Standoff

by DeutchRemy



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ElBeingAKid, Gen, HopBeingADad, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeutchRemy/pseuds/DeutchRemy
Summary: Hop and El have a standoff over vegetables.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Vegetable Standoff

“Uh-uh, what’re you doin'?”

“um…going to watch…tee-vee?”

“No, you’re not.”

“i’m…not?”

“Nope. Sit back down. Remember what we talked about?”

The overall-clad girl shakes her head slowly, eyes fixed on mine as she lowers herself back down onto the kitchen chair.

“We talked about how you gotta eat your vegetables before you leave the table, right?”

“yes.”

“And did you eat your vegetables?”

El looks down at her plate, examining it, before looking back up at me, innocently, and telling me matter-of-factly, “no.”

“Then you can’t leave the table yet, kid.”

“i ate...some.”

“You ate two bites, sweetheart. That’s not gonna cut it.”

“but…don’t need to ‘cut it’. too small to cut…”

God, I swear, this kid gets cuter by the day. Nope, steady, Hop. Must not be a pushover. Her health depends on it. You've been this girl's friend for a month now; time to start being her parent.

“No, not cut like that. Um, ‘not gonna cut it’ means that something’s not good enough. So your eating two bites of vegetables isn’t good enough. You understand what I’m saying?”

“yes.”

“So you gonna eat the rest of ‘em?”

She just shrugs her shoulders and looks down at the plate, frowning slightly at the pile of peas and carrots.

"Is that a no?"

Another shrug.

Don't be a pushover, Hop. Time for some tough love.

"Well, then you can't leave the table. Okay?"

"can't?"

"Nope, not until you eat the vegetables."

"okay..."

I leave her there as I set about washing the dishes, all but her plate, fork, and glass of milk. 

When I'm finished I head over to the couch and sack out, turning on the TV and watching El out of the corner of my eye. She's still in the same position, hunched over the plate of vegetables, not moving. I'm tempted to tell her to sit up straight, you know, really drive home the tough love shit, but I refrain. I'd rather the kid not hate me.

She's still at the table an hour later, still hunched over, as I shuffle into the kitchen to refill my ice cream bowl. I pile it high with mint chocolate chip, add a mountain of whipped cream, and take it back to the couch.

Bedtime rolls around and I'm torn on what to do. Do I tell her she can leave the table now, vegetables uneaten, or would that be admitting defeat? I decide to see it through to the end.

It's 11 PM now, well past her bedtime, and she's still in the chair. She's shifted, finally, and has tucked one leg underneath her, but the food on her plate remains uneaten. She hasn't even picked at it; it's completely untouched. She's starting to squirm a bit.

"Ready to clean your plate, kiddo?"

"yes, please." She picks up the plate and hands it to me.

"No no no no no no no, I mean are you ready to eat your veggies?"

"oh. no." She stares at me.

I sigh. "It's past your bedtime, kid. C'mon, just eat 'em."

She looks at the offensive items miserably.

"Want me to reheat them for you? They'll taste better."

She just shrugs at me. I sigh again, loudly, and scrub my hand down my face.

"El." I say as sternly as I can muster. "You need to eat those vegetables. C'mon, it's time for bed."

She just blinks at me.

I try a different tactic.

"Okay, which one do you like better? Or rather, which one do you hate more? The peas or the carrots?"

"orange ones."

I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. "The carrots. Okay. Let's make a deal. If you eat all the peas you don't have to eat the carrots. Deal?"

"I don't...I don't want peas, either..." She's getting frustrated now, I can tell from the tone of her voice and the way she frowns and plucks at the ragged hem of her napkin.

"You can do the peas, the carrots, or both, but not neither, okay?"

She refuses to look at me. 

"Alright, suit yourself."

I retreat to the sofa.

*******

I snore myself awake. What the...when the hell did I fall asleep? Apparently hours ago, if the test pattern on the TV is anything to go by. The lights are still on so I glance at my watch. 3:43 AM. I look over into the kitchen. El's still in that damn chair, though she's fallen asleep, too, her cheek pressed against the tabletop, her flimsy cloth napkin serving as a makeshift pillow. 

The vegetables remain uneaten.

This kid, I think to myself as I haul my ass off the couch and stretch, bones and joints cracking noisily in the quiet room. The old wooden floorboards creak as I shuffle into the kitchen.

She wakes just enough to wrap her arms around my neck as I pick her up and carry her, somewhat guiltily, into her bedroom. I shouldn't feel bad, I know this, but I do anyway. As comical as it can look, no child should spend the night passed out next to their dinner plate.

As I lay her down on her bed and draw the blankets over her overall-clad body, I can't help but wonder - did one of us win that standoff, or was it a draw?


End file.
